Harry Sirius Potter Black
by LenkaJeneva
Summary: Now a series of one-shot's. Third year. Based off the idea that Harry is named after Sirius in some way... and the Gryffindor Common Room finally learns that Harry's name is not Harry James Potter after all...
1. The Name

**Just a little one-shot based on my idea of Harry being named after Sirius in some way. **

**And I'll probably end up rewriting my one story **_**Sirius**_** as I don't exactly like where that one is heading… Any suggestions would be welcome.**

**But this is just an amusing idea that I had. Nothing big. **

**And, just in case I need to, although I really hope that I don't have to:**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter

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"It's because Harry always seems to find trouble."

"No," Harry piped up with an outraged sniff, "trouble always seems to find me."

"Sure," Hermione told him with a roll of her eyes, she patted his shoulder over-indulgently, "Whatever you say Harry."

"What if I told you that Trouble is my middle name?"

"I'd say that you're an idiot."

"One can have multiple middle names."

The bushy haired girl looked up toward the sky. Why did she put up with this when she should be studying for exam…? "I'm sure, than what should I call you? Harry Trouble James Potter or Harry James Trouble Potter? I need to know for when I need to call you the full three."

"Err…" Harry twisted sheepishly, pulling at his robes as he grinned at the girl. "Well, actually–"

"Oh dear God, what now?"

"My middle name isn't James."

A sudden silence descended across their corner of the common room. Ron and Dean looked up from their game of chess, Hermione stared at him from behind her pile of books, and Fred and George glanced over from their scheming. "What do you mean?" Ron asked, maneuvering in his seat as he turned to the boy. "Every book, and every one, always said that your name is Harry James Potter."

"Well, yeah," Harry rubbed the back of his neck as a few other Gryffindor's began to pay attention to their conversation. "My dad didn't want to get in trouble with my mum, so he lied."

"Your dad, lied?" Angelina Johnson asked, "On a birth certificate?"

"Err… well, no." He twisted uncomfortably. "He lied to the world – birth certificates are private. They're not open to the public, so people just had to assume that whatever my mum and dad said was right…"

"So… How do you know all this?"

Harry scoffed at Dean's question. "My aunt told me," He said, "she told me that it was the stupidest thing that anyone had ever done. And she only knew because the goblins told her, who were told by my dad."

… A small silence engulfed them as people tried to digest that statement. Harry wondered what they would say to the – "Harry?" Hermione broke it. "What's your name then?"

"Well," He brought himself to his full height (which wasn't that tall…) as he realized that practically all of the Common Room was listening to them. "My full name is," the thirteen year old gulped, "Harry Sirius Potter-Black."

The quiet was suddenly oppressive.

"As in," Fred put in with a small quiver, "Sirius Black?"

Ah, the escaped convict. That Harry (The-Boy-Who-Lived) just so happened to be named after. The boy who defeated Voldemort was named after his number one man. How ironic.

"Yeah," He pulled at his hair, "Aunt Petunia told me that my dad was writing down my name – Harry James Potter – but he'd only gotten Harry down before Sirius Black stole the quill he was using and wrote Sirius after it, then my dad got into a scuffle and wrote down Potter before Sirius managed to add the Black to it. My mother was asleep during the entire thing. So they lied. The goblins said that they thought it was great fun."

No one had anything to say to that statement. Ron stood there, his mouth hanging open (although he wasn't the only one, Hermione's kept opening and closing as if she couldn't find the words to say) and Fred and George merely stared at Harry with identical (shocked) expressions, Dean seemed close to laughing, Seamus was staring at him in horror, and Angelina… well he was pretty sure that all their Chasers felt that he was making a joke.

That's great. He probably shouldn't have said anything.

"And…" Oliver Wood cleared his throat, "Well, I don't see why we're all sitting around here – it doesn't hurt our team, so we shouldn't think too much of it–"

"Wait a minute," Katie Bell held up a hand, "wait just one minute – how did your dad and Sirius Black know each other?"

"Apparently they were best friends; at least, that's what the goblins told me. Sirius Black's my godfather. He left me heir to his estate. That's why Black is apart of my last name."

"But," Hermione approached her subject cautiously, "wouldn't the sorting hat have known…"

"Oh, it did, but McGonagall will only call out the names that the person answers to, and I never answer to Harry Sirius Potter-Black, only Harry Potter, since it's easier that way. And every just assumed that James is my middle name, so…" He shrugged, taking a seat across from Hermione.

Hermione obviously didn't want to leave well enough alone, "And why did your aunt tell you this? I thought she hated magic?"

"Oh, she does," He nodded knowledgably, "but she said that if my godfather ever gets out of prison then I was to go and live with him, no ifs ands or buts."

"… Does she expect you to live with him now?" Angelina asked wearily.

"Probably." Harry shrugged. It wasn't as if he knew, although he'd find out in due time, like when he arrived at Kings Cross and his Aunt and Uncle weren't there. Maybe he should try to find out where his godfather was… Maybe he'd find Harry first, everyone did seem to think that he was after his godson… "I expect that I'll find out soon enough."

Hey, maybe living with some deranged mass-murdering godfather that supposedly wanted him dead would be better than living with his mother's sister. For all Harry knew, Sirius Black could've sent him the Firebolt… Now that'd be interesting…


	2. The Naming

**Okay, I know a few people said that I could make this into an actual story, but, instead, I decided to make it a series of one-shots to 'describe' everything that Harry told the Gryffindors… and maybe their reactions. I'll see if any plot bunnies come to me anytime soon.**

**Thusly, I will begin with James and Sirius naming a young Harry Potter**

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**Disclaimer:** I (still) do not (it's very unfortunate) own Harry Potter_ anything_, although I do have a sweatshirt that I bought, but I didn't make is sooo…. Yeah….

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James snorted as Sirius began crooning a song to his (currently sleeping) godson. Well, what's supposed to be his godson.

It really depends on whether Sirius decides to screw everything up sometime within the next few days.

Which he most likely, probably… _definitely_ would… somehow.

The raven-haired father wasn't sure if he wanted to know how, when, and where Sirius would screw up. And Lily _would_ find out. One way or another…. He should probably get a speech prepared for his best friend's funeral. Maybe he'd like to be buried… "Hey Sirius," James called out, only one way to find these things out, "Where would you like to be buried?"

"I want to be cremated," the man answered promptly, looking up from the sleeping child to see James playing with a sleeping Lily's hair, "and have my ashes scattered amongst the sky… preferably Hogwarts… or something… I dunno, you choose, why?"

"I'm planning out your funeral."

Quirking an eyebrow, he swept his hair out of his eyes as he gave the man a strange glance, "Any reason why…?"

James, deeming not to answer, continued toying with his Lily-flowers hair.

A small silence descended upon them.

Sirius turned grey eyes onto his godson as he began to count each of the child's toes to be _sure_ that the child, did, indeed have ten toes and ten fingers. If the Healer was lying Sirius would figure out a way to bring the man to the courts.

But the child did indeed have ten fingers and toes. So to celebrate, he promptly picked the child up.

And _man_ did the kid have lungs.

"_Padfoot_!" James hissed, horrified. He spared a quick glance to the woman lying on the bed, relieved when she didn't even twitch, and hurried over to the crib. "What are you _doing_?"

"I didn't mean to!" Sirius stared at the kid in morbid fascination. "I didn't mean to!" Holding the kid out for his father to take seemed to be the best idea at the time, and, thusly so, he thrust the child out for James to take, having no idea what to do himself.

James, obviously didn't either, as he held the child in the crook of his arm and stared at him while the kid was bawling his eyes out. He sent a panicked look at his friend as the kid didn't seem to show any signs of relenting.

"How is she _not_ awake?"

"Don't question our good luck," James snapped as his friend stared at the red-head, fascinated.

"She just went through seven hours of labor," an old nurse, who neither James nor Sirius had seen enter the room (causing them to jump and spin around, James nearly dropping his son before the nurse took the kid from him with an evil eye – the "little alien" as Sirius called him shut up), "She's bound to be tired."

James sheepishly ruffled his hair, "Err… yeah…." He said as the woman placed the now quiet baby back in the crib. "Sorry."

"I was wondering if you wanted to take care of the birth certificate now," the woman straightened out her maroon robes, which announced her to be one of the minor healers, or, as the marauders called them, nurses. She appeared to be in her mid-fifties. "We've just finished filling out our parts of the form, and if you'd wish to fill in the name then…"

"We can do it," Sirius told her rather bluntly, "we're not little two year olds who can't write."

She shot him an evil glare, "It was more of a suggestion of waiting until the mother woke up from–"

"We've already decided on a name," James told her, "and what if – what if," and the horror stories that Remus always managed to make under the canopy's of the Forbidden Forest came to his mind, those campfire stories that they'd told nearly everyday that fifth year suddenly came to his mind, "MY BABY CAN'T STAY WITHOUT A NAME A SECOND _LONGER_!" He suddenly cried.

If asked, he didn't know how the baby in question managed to stay quiet after that racket and how Lily did not _wake up_ from that racket.

Although he did manage to get a whack to the head and a telling off from the nurse that had brought the birth certificate.

And, finally, after about twenty minutes, the woman left, leaving the birth certificate and quill and ink bottle on the table near the door. James and Sirius stared each other down for all, but five seconds before pelting towards the incriminating evidence.

Deftly beating Sirius to the table (James _had been_ significantly closer as Sirius had to run, and stumble, and attempted to be quiet on his way around the bed), James managed to neatly write the words, _Harry_ before the quill was yanked out of his hand.

Staring at his quill-less hand, he belatedly noticed Sirius spelling out his own name after Harry, and his eye unintentionally twitched as he tore the beaten, overused, and over-rough-housed quill away from the man after he'd finished the last 's'. He wrote _Potter _down, as neatly as he could in case Lily asked to see the certificate (James didn't know how he'd explain the kid having _Sirius_ as his middle name… Lily would kill him… probably both of them).

And Padfoot was still looming over his shoulder.

He hadn't expected his to pick up the fallen quill after he put it down beside the piece of parchment.

And Sirius quietly writing Black as part of his last name… _Harry Sirius Potter-Black._

"You do realize," Prongs said once a sliver of ink leaked out onto the table, "that Lily is going to murder us if she ever finds this out…."

"More than less likely," Padfoot responded, placing the quill next the certificate.

Neither of them mentioned the significance of Sirius adding Black to Harry's name. In fact, neither said a word until the newly named Harry cooed at the bars surrounding him.

And James laughed, Sirius quickly joining in afterwards, their loud guffaws finally breaking through Lily's sleep as she peered up at the two of them through half-lidded eyes, and James, managing to quell the urge to laugh slightly, walked around the bed to pick up the baby boy, their baby boy, and smiled at his wife.

"I'd like you to meet Harry James Potter," Lily's emerald green eyes found her son and she smiled a soft smile, silently sitting up with slight help from James as she took the child from her husbands arms.

Of course, she didn't notice James gesturing frantically to Sirius to take out the parchment, nor Sirius picking up the parchment and quill and racing out of the door like the devil was on his heels.

If she had then, well, maybe she would've questioned their odd behavior… but at the moment.

"Oh, Harry," she cooed softly, peering into the child's face, "it's rather upsetting that you've got your father's genes, but it can't be helped."

"Yeah, I – _Lily_!"


	3. Remus' horrible horror story

**Okay, so, finally, after just months of complete and utter writers bloc on this chapter, I have finally finished. Took me a while (and annoyed me to death), but I am done with this chapter. Sorry for the wait. I started this chapter months ago, got about halfway through it, became terribly confused about what should happen next, and then just left it, to my utter shame.**

**And, with finals now over (YES! I love FREEDOM!) ... sorry about that, I'm a bit happy that my semesters now over... but now that finals are done, I have more free time (at least, I'll have more after Christmas... I've got a lot of cleaning to do...)**

**Okay, no more Author Notes for this thing!**

**But, anyways, onwards, to Remus completely horrifying James into worrying about **_**why**_** he can't let his son go nameless for too long.**

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**I don't own Harry Potter. Really, I don't.**

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"Do you _really_ need to try that every time we come out here Padfoot?" Remus asked dryly. And yes, he really did feel the need to ask that question each time they snuck out here.

Sirius cheerfully ignored him, rubbing two sticks together in an attempt to create a fire. "So what's on the agenda today kids?" He asked, peering down as he saw a – oh, wait, never mind, it was a beetle, not a spark. A flush of slight disappointment clouded over him.

"I had the house elves give me marshmallows if you can get that fire started Pads," James said grinning way too cheerfully.

"How 'bout gram crackers?" Sirius asked, eyeing the three marauders surrounding him. He saw Peter pull them out of his overnight bag. With that, Sirius grinned, redoubling his efforts on the fire, "excellent!" he crowed, ecstatically. "We'll have smores yet!"

"Siri," Remus put out delicately, "you need chocolate for smores…"

"I know," the boy waved his hand distractedly as he observed the sticks in his hands closely. The beetle was moving along up towards his fingers… he didn't notice James and Peter turn to get settled down and watch the show. "You have chocolate of course though, don't you?"

Moony narrowed his eyes, "What makes you think I'd give you three any?"

"Because we're best friends?" Sirius asked, mentally moving the motion of ignoring the beetle on the stick. He viciously pushed them together before stopping, horrified, to watch the beetle fall onto his lap.

Remus took no notice of his friend's terror. "Because really, I'm not about to give you chocolate just because you asked for it–" whatever else he was about to say got cut off as Sirius gave a loud, horrified scream before jumping up and out of the makeshift fire pit and jumping around as though he were on fire himself. "What on earth–"

The werewolf turned as he saw movement in his peripheral vision and noticed James shifting on the blanket. Peter stared transfixed at the sight before him. James broke the silence, "Erm… Padfoot?"

"Get it off me!" Was his answering reply, "get it off! Get it off! Get it off!"

Remus slowly walked forward, placed both of his hands on Sirius's shoulders, before quickly moving them to his elbows and holding his arms still as Sirius moved as though to whack him upside the head. Somehow managing to ignore Sirius' still frantic yells and wiggles, he surveyed the boy for any damaged for a moment before finding the beetle, and he flicked it to the ground, causing Sirius to fall silent, before squishing it.

Sirius let out an indignant squeak, "You killed it," he accused.

"And you scream like a little girl," Remus told him dryly.

Both stared at each other for all but ten seconds. "Never speak of this again?" Sirius suggested. Remus raised a brow. "I won't tell anyone that you killed a beetle and you don't tell them that I screamed." He clarified.

"Really," Moony muttered, incredulous, "I don't really care if people know that I killed a beetle."

"But aren't beetles bad luck or something?"

"Nah," James said from his position on the ground, "I think you're thinkin' of _The Beatles_, you know, the muggle band that's gotten pretty big lately."

"I think its crickets that you kill 'em and you get bad luck," Peter piped up; rooting through the bag for a bottle of butter beer that he'd packed. "That's what them Chinese say at least… I think… that's what me mum said."

"I'm pretty sure it was beetles… not a band…" Padfoot frowned, his brow crinkling in thought as his grey eyes stared unseeingly at the tree behind Prongs and Wormtail. "Yeah… you kill a beetle and you get bad luck…"

"Whatever," Remus said, overriding whatever the other three had in mind. He already conjured a bluebell flame, not in the mood to sit through one of Sirius' 'we can create fire like the muggle cavemen back in the day' ideas. "Let's just make some smores, tell some stories, go to sleep, and make sure to get to the Great Hall at a decent time so no one starts to look for us."

"Take all the fun out of everything Loony Loopy Lupin," James said with a pout. "The risk of getting caught is half the fun." Of course, James also said that watching the persons face once the prank is directed at them was the rest of the fun – which is why James was starting to plan how to teach Peeves the 'loony loopy lupin' chant, so that Peeves could annoy Remus for him – it was a win-win situation.

"Yeah," Remus said, unaware of his friend's evil thoughts, "you tell that to me once you're in the dungeons scrubbing cauldrons for detention."

"Don't act like you won't be there with us all high and mighty over there," Sirius overrode, jumping out of the fire pit he made and virtually leaped over toward James, Sirius swatted Peters offending hand away before shoving his own hand into the bag in order to grab a marshmallow for himself. "If we go down, we're dragging you down with us."

"Wow," the werewolf muttered, settling in across from them, making sure that the fire pit still separated them and the bluebell flame grew slightly larger, as if to fend them away, "thanks for worrying about my well being guys."

"That's what we're here for," Peter put in, finally managing to snatch a marshmallow out for himself.

Sirius took out another and tossed it to Remus, "Like, without me," he said brightly as the werewolf caught the little white puffball, "you wouldn't have a marshmallow, would you?"

Remus rolled his eyes, "Nice argument."

The mutt shrugged, "I try."

"We know," James said, having come back with several sticks. The other three in his company blinked, wondering when he had disappeared. He shoved a marshmallow on his stick before tossing another stick to Remus and Peter respectively and dropping the last two onto Padfoot, "Here."

"Hey!" The outraged cry was ignored as Remus set upon the task of sliding his marshmallow onto his stick. James didn't say a word as he brought his own stick down onto Sirius head and proceeded to put a marshmallow on it.

Sirius rubbed his head, a hurt expression on his face that quickly evaporated once he dug into the marshmallow bag once again.

"So…" Remus, surprised, blew onto his flaming ball of sugar as he pulled his stick out of the fire. He gave the charred food a sad look before peeling the black skin off of it, the center was still fluffy, warm, and marshmallowey, "What now?"

James shrugged, watching as Padfoot pulled out a perfectly tanned marshmallow, and he looked desperately at his own burnt piece of wood. His marshmallow fell off…

Peter had taken to eating them plain, less of a mess that way, "How 'bout a story?" Pete asked, looking around at the three of them.

Padfoot perked up at the mention of a story, "Alright, how 'bout this, there was a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar–"

"_Anyway_," Remus overrode the hyped up dog amongst the laughter from Prongs and Wormtail, "I've got a good one."

"A good troll?" James asked, giving Sirius an evil smirk.

Padfoot pouted.

"Shut your trap," Moony said simply, "You know that ghost in that bathroom?"

"Moaning Myrtle?" Sirius piped in quickly, "I heard that she was called Moaning for a completely different reas–"

"And ignoring the idiot," Prongs said with a laugh chucking a marshmallow at said idiot's head. Sirius caught it quickly, shoving into his mouth and reaching for another to put onto his stick. "Yes, we know of Moaning Myrtle, what about her?"

Remus glanced over at James as he began to rummage through his robes for something. Apparently he found said something and threw a piece of it at Padfoot once it looked as though he was about to open his mouth.

Chocolate was good for many things as Moony would be quick to tell you.

"She had a bout of bad luck all her life I heard," he said finally, after a moments wait. He chewed thoughtfully on his own piece of chocolate before a stick collided with his face.

Moony blinked, bewildered, before glancing over at his three friends, the bluebell flames' light playing with shadows across their faces. It all looked rather morbid.

Maybe not as morbid as his friends faces though.

It took him a moment to figure out what they wanted. And so, it was with a sad sort of smile on his face as he broke off another two pieces of chocolate and threw them both to Prongs and Wormtail respectably. He added in Padfoot to the mix as well once he saw the kicked puppy look on the animagus' face.

But before Remus could continue on with his story, Wormtail piped in with, "Of course she had a bout of bad luck – she's dead."

"Way to put that bluntly," Prongs told him, a tint of amusement in his voice.

At the same time, Padfoot snickered and said, quickly, "I think you're channeling Prongs."

"Yeah I–" Prongs blinked, "_Hey!_"

"But do you know _why_ she had that bout of bad luck," Remus persisted. "It couldn't have come from just nowhere."

"I don't know," Sirius said with a shrug, reaching for (yet another) marshmallow, "Karma?"

"She obviously did something horrible in a previous life and has to make up for it now," James was nothing but quick to retaliate with his own theory.

Peter just shrugged.

"But wouldn't that still be considered Karm–"

"Who cares about Karma?" Remus asked, put out.

"Wow, way to be rude."

"Just cut across us like that."

"_You_ asked us the question."

"So mean."

"Can't believe we call him our friend."

"Outrageous."

"Are you two quite done," the boy asked before Sirius could continue on after James' comment.

Both the boys stared at the werewolf rather defiantly before slowly nodding.

"Good."

The fire crackled slowly and flared slightly as Peter threw a dried up twig in there. The small, discolored, cracked over leaves blurred and faded in the fire as a small smell invaded Remus' nose. He crinkled said nose. It didn't smell too good. Or sound too good.

But he sighed, took another bite of his chocolate (_Honeydukes finest chocolate_ – he managed to swipe some from Sirius while the mutt wasn't looking, the boy didn't even expect that it was everyone's favorite werewolf that took them, he wouldn't talk to James for nearly a day once he realized that they were gone).

"What _I_ heard," he continued, the flames still crackling merrily between them, "was that he bad luck started early, it wasn't something that she did, or anything like that – it just seemed as though it appeared from out of nowhere, but that is impossible, it _had_ to of come from somewhere. And it all comes back to the day that she was born.

"Now, magic has a mind of its own. And names, names are important. They're more than just sounds that are put together for the sake of being put together, ever wonder why wizards and witches always have the child's names selected and picked out months before the child is even born?"

"I though muggles did that too…?" Sirius half asked, pulling Peter's backpack over to him while the sandy-haired (slightly pudgy) wizard was distracted. He rummaged through it.

"_Anyway_," Remus continued, ignoring the interruption, "I heard that her parents couldn't decide on a name. It took them so long that, by the time that they had come home, they still couldn't decide on a name, and thus, they began calling the child a 'little alien' for nearly a month." At that point Sirius snickered. "It was around a month later that they finally decided on a name. Myrtle. But by then, the damage was done."

"What damage?"

"You're not making any sense."

James, strangely enough, didn't say a word as he stared at Remus as if he'd never seen him before as both Sirius and Peter voiced their opinions aloud.

Then again, Remus went along with what he usually did and ignored them.

"During that time, her own magic, still barely there, but still impressionable, had taken her as a nameless being. She was a nobody. She didn't have a name. She, theoretically, didn't exist."

"Wouldn't the sorting hat have known that then?"

Remus (once again) continued on as if he hadn't heard Sirius speak. "So once this nameless person began to respond to the name Myrtle, her magic still did not. It was not engrained in her magic. It began to rebel. Thus her series of bad luck began. It started out with little things, accidental magic popping up erratically–"

"–doesn't it always?"

"–magic screwing with her emotions and actions, making her prone to inane drabble and sobs and teasing. And then, finally, after a life of misery, dead, all because she spent one month without a name."

There was silence for a few moments; none of them said a word as they stared at each other over the bluebell flames. Then, finally, Sirius blinked, rubbed his eyes, and looked back at Remus. "That," he said slowly, deliberately, "was the _worst_ horror story I've ever heard. And I've heard some bad horror stories. Ever watch Scream?"

Peter though, took a different view on things, and snorted. "Kind of funny actually," he said, "in a sad, sad way."

James didn't say a thing.

Remus snorted. "I made that up on the spot, don't mock me, I'd like you guys to come up with something better."

"I accept that challenge," Sirius said with finality, "and the story will start as so: there was a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar–"

Remus laughed at him.


End file.
